Desire
by JenniGellerBing
Summary: Monica learns that even the best of intentions can destroy a life... M/C fic, kind of dark but also funny and romantic!
1. The Meeting

A/N: I'm baaaack! This fic may turn out to be rated R for - get this - mature thematic elements, nudity, violence, and language. Well, okay, no nudity, but if you feel the need to picture one or two characters naked... *cough*Jenni*cough* ;) LOL, just kiddin, hon. Have fun. Oh and thankies to Becca for helping me with the title! Love you gurl!

Okay... not gonna give you any background, you'll figure it out, but the beginning is sort of confusing. I wanted to jump right into it without much explanation, except that the whole group never really met up, but a few of them know each other.

****

Desire

CHAPTER ONE: The Meeting

She was browsing through a rack of expensive clothes at a trendy boutique on Fifth Avenue when she heard her name being called. "Monica? Monica Geller?"

She turned around, searching for the man who the voice belonged to. He took a step closer to her, a shy smile on his face. With sudden recognition, she grinned.

"Oh my God! Chandler Bing?" she cried. The man grinned even wider, his blue eyes dancing with delight. 

"I can't believe you even remember my name," Chandler said. "I figured I'd always remain 'The Boy Who Hates Thanksgiving' with your family."

"No, to me, you're 'The Boy Who's Toe I Chopped off,'" Monica teased back. "How is the toe, anyway?"

"Well, except for the obvious lack of toenail, it's quite fine," Chandler said.

Monica laughed, her first real laugh in days. "My God, how long has it been?"

"Man. Well, I think I last saw you at Ross's wedding, so... seven, eight years?"

"Yeah. Wow." Monica found herself staring at Chandler. She'd had the biggest crush on him when she was younger... and he was still so cute.

"Hey, um, would you like to grab a cup of coffee or a bite to eat or something?" Chandler said. "Actually, we're right near my place, and there's this great little coffee shop next door."

"That's sounds great," Monica said warmly, and followed Chandler out of the boutique. As they walked down the street, she said, "What were you doing in a boutique, anyway?"

"Christmas shopping," Chandler said in a serious voice. Monica looked at him - it was April. "Kidding, Monica," he said. "I was just walking by on my way home from work."

"I'd almost forgotten how hysterical you were," she said dryly.

A few blocks later they walked into the coffeehouse. "Ohh, I get it!" Monica cried suddenly, staring at the name of the café. "Central Perk. That's cute."

They sat down at a small table and ordered quickly. "So, Mon, what've you been up to?" Chandler asked.

"Well, I'm married. His name is Kip Jones," Monica said dully, sighing without realizing it. Chandler's face fell slightly, but he quickly recovered with a sarcastic comment.

"Don't overwhelm me with your excitement," he deadpanned.

"It's just... marriage isn't all it's cracked up to be, you know? I mean, I always thought it would be perfect, that I'd live happily ever after, but... it's not. Kip - I mean, he's great, a really nice guy, but I'm... I'm totally boring you, aren't I?"

"Not at all," Chandler said. "Please, go on. If you want to, I mean..."

Monica looked at Chandler and found that she didn't want to talk about her husband with him. She wanted to pretend she didn't have a husband... that she was free and independent and could do anything she wanted, that she was 20 instead of 30, and that her breasts were quite a bit perkier.

"Actually - I don't want to talk about him. What about you?" she asked, quickly turning the tables.

"Well, I'm in data processing."

"Sounds... interesting," Monica lied.

"Yeah, it's not," Chandler said. "But it pays the bills. I live right up there - " he pointed out the window - "and I'm currently not seeing anybody. And when I say currently, I mean since 1999," he joked. _Well_, Monica thought, _at least I _think _it was a joke._

After a few seconds of silence, Chandler said, "So how're Ross and Carol? Haven't heard from them in a while."

"Actually, they got divorced, about four years ago," Monica said.

"Really?" Chandler said in surprise. "Why?"

"Carol left him - " Monica started.

"Oh," Chandler said.

" - for another woman," she finished.

Chandler almost dropped his cup of coffee. "You're kidding."

"Nope."

"Wow. A lesbian," Chandler shook his head. "Lucky Ross."

"So then - okay, so then she says, 'But you said you were a Kennedy'!" Chandler cried, finishing a story. Monica burst out laughing, a feeling of total relaxation spreading through her. She wiped tears from her eyes as Chandler shook his head, chuckling. "Needless to say, we never went out again."

"I can't believe that," Monica said. "You are too much."

"Hey, Chandler? We're closing up," said the peroxide-blonde man standing behind the counter. Monica glanced at her watch. 

"Oh my God! It's almost nine-thirty! Kip expected me home by..." she trailed off. "Well, I guess I'd better go. My car is parked in a structure near Fifth Avenue." 

"It's getting kind of later - I'll walk you out," Chandler said. They left the coffeehouse and stood on the sidewalk, neither wanting to say good-bye. A soft drizzle began to fall.

"I had a really great time today, Chandler," Monica said softly. "I haven't laughed this hard in years."

"I can't believe we haven't talked in so long," Chandler agreed. "When Ross and I were roommates, we used to see each other all the time!" Suddenly, a big fat raindrop fell from the sky and landed square on his nose. Monica giggled and reached up to wipe it off. Her hand strayed away from his nose and lingered on his warm cheek. A spontaneous shiver ran down her spine.

Her body was reacting in old, forgotten ways. Chemistry and magnetism, it was all there, flowing in enormous amounts between her and Chandler. This - she had never felt this for Kip. Kip was... she couldn't even compare this to anything she'd ever felt for Kip. This was pure attraction. How, she wondered, after a few hours, could she feel so pulled to Chandler? 

She could feel his warm breath on her hand, and she wondered - could it be possible that he felt the same way? The way he was looking at her, straight into her eyes... he did. Monica knew it. 

It wasn't until several seconds later that she realized the rain was falling harder now. Chandler gently seized her hand, and held it between his own two.

"Your hand is freezing," he whispered, looking down at it. His eyelashes were holding raindrops, and when he blinked, they ran down his face like crystal tears. Her hand felt safe in his. 

"Do you think I could come warm up at your place?" Monica asked breathily. The rain was coming heavily now - it had gone from a light sprinkle to a downpour in minutes.

"Sure," Chandler said, but neither of them moved. He was still holding her hand. 

A giant clap of lightning startled them apart. Monica was suddenly aware that she was soaked through, and shivering from the cold. Thunder boomed, and she saw Chandler mouth, "This way." 

She followed him over to the apartment building next door, and hurriedly went inside. It was dryer, but not much warmer, in the lobby. "Third floor," he muttered, and led her up the staircase. 

They reached apartment number 19, and he pulled a key out, letting them in. "This is home," he said. "It's not much - I share it with my roommate Joey. Speaking of Joey - Joey? Are you here?" Chandler shook his head. "Of course he's not here. It's Saturday night - Joey's got a date or four."

"Do you think I could get out of these wet clothes?" Monica asked, motioning to her expensive, designer outfit. "I can feel the leather shrinking."

"Sure, I could, um, grab you something of mine," Chandler said, looking her up and down. His eyes lingered on her chest, and Monica remembered that she was wearing a white, almost-see-through-when-dry, totally-see-through-when-wet shirt. A blush crept over her cheeks, but she was flattered and let his eyes linger before turning away. _Don't give away the farm all at once, Mon,_ she reminded herself.

_Don't give it away at all!_ another, harsher voice cried inside her head. _Your married - remember? Kip? Your husband?_

Monica shoved her thoughts aside and followed Chandler into his bedroom, where he pulled a tee-shirt and sweatpants out of his drawer. He took her to the bathroom and handed her a clean towel.

"I'll just be... in my room," he mumbled, and Monica realized he was trying whole-heartedly not to look at her breasts, but failing miserably.

"Okay," she said. After the door shut, Monica stripped out of her wet clothes and dried herself off with the towel. She saw a bath towel hanging on the back of the door. Leaning forward, she smelled it. _Mmm_, she thought. It was definitely Chandler's - it smelled of spicy shaving cream and Ivory soap, just like he did. 

She was struck with sudden inspiration. Letting Chandler's clothes fall to the ground, she took the robe off the hook and wrapped herself in it. It was warm and cozy. She put her hand on the doorknob and prepared to turn it. She started to consider her decision - but no, there was no time for that. She needed this. 

Monica went into the living room and found Chandler standing by the counter. He looked up as she entered, seeing her in the bathrobe, but looking only slightly confused. 

She stepped closer to him, and, without warning, untied the bathrobe and shimmied out of it. She was totally naked.

Chandler visibly blanched, but soon a look of quiet happiness came over him, mixed with apprehension. Monica took another step closer, and he did the same. 

"Are you sure this is what you want?" he whispered.

"Yes."

A few hours later, Monica lay in Chandler's bed. He brushed a stray curl behind her ear, and she inched closer to him.

"That was amazing," he murmured.

"I know," she said, smiling demurely. It _had_ been amazing. Monica hadn't made love like that for years. It had awakened her, and yet she felt like she was dreaming.

"What about your husband?"

_Your husband... your husband..._

"I - I don't know," she said, biting her lip.

"Leave him," Chandler suggested. Monica smiled for a second, until she realized that Chandler was totally serious.

"Oh - oh, God, Chandler, I - I couldn't - " she stopped, seeing his crestfallen face.

"Why not?"

"I - I just can't - "

"It was just - sex, wasn't it Monica? Just an escape from your humdrum life?" he said. "A little bit of fun - "

"No! God, Chandler, you - you have know idea what I feel for you," she said, stopping him. "I would leave Kip in a second. It's just - Caitlin." She paused. Chandler looked at her with wide eyes, and she realized that Caitlin had not been mentioned.

"Who's Caitlin?" he asked in a hushed tone.

"My - my daughter," Monica said. 

"I see," Chandler said after a minute.

"It would destroy her, Chandler. I can't break up our family. She's only four," she said, pleading with her eyes for forgiveness for the omission of that one crucial fact. "I'm sorry."

"I think you should go," Chandler muttered, turning away.

Monica felt tears spring to her eyes. She didn't want to leave - she couldn't, not after tonight, not after what she felt for him. But - she had to.

"Okay," she said sadly. She went into his bathroom and found her clothes, almost dried, and put them on. As she prepared to leave, Chandler came out of the bedroom, wearing only a pair of sweats. Her fingers ached to touch his bare chest, but she held herself back. Touching him, kissing him again, would only make things worse.

"Bye," she whispered, picked up her purse, and turned to go.

"Wait!" Chandler called. She turned around, and then he kissed her, a long, sweet, tantalizing kiss.

"Give me your number," she murmured into his ear. 

"What?"

"Just do it, Chandler," she said. Quickly, he grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled his number. She stuffed it in her purse and kissed him again. Then she turned and hurried away. 


	2. The Decision

A/N: Thank you for all the reviews! I feel so loved. Happy President's Day everybody! *Waves to Becca* this is for you Bec! :D Okay well I hope you guys like this chapter... it's not that important, it's kind of a transition chapter, but hopefully you won't all hate me. 

Disclaimer: Caitlin is mine so you can't have her! But nobody else is mine.

CHAPTER TWO - The Decision

Monica arrived home that night, feeling like she was walking on air. She could feel Chandler, and taste him. She entered the house and found it pitch black. She felt her way into the living room and a light snapped on suddenly. She screamed. 

"Where the hell have you _been?_" Kip asked harshly. He had been waiting for her in the dark. 

"I ran into an old friend and got stuck at her house because of the rain," Monica said airily once she'd calmed down her beating heart. She'd formulated this plan on the drive home, after seeing it was close to midnight.

"What friend is this?" Kip asked, advancing on her. 

"A-Alison," she said, her voice shaking slightly. "Fr-from college."

Kip's eyes swept over her face, searching for any traces of guilt. Monica struggled to keep her face completely emotionless.

"Okay," he said. Monica wasn't sure if he'd fallen for it, but it was enough. "I was worried about you, and so was Caitlin."

"I'm sorry. I'll call next time," she said, and in silence they went up to bed. As they passed their daughter's room, Monica asked, "Did you get her to sleep all right?"

Kip's face hardened again. "She didn't want to get in bed without a kiss from you, but I managed to convince her you'd give her one when you got home."

"Okay, I'll go do that," Monica said, eager to get away from Kip's glare. She tiptoed into her daughter's room and knelt next to the bed.

Caitlin was fast asleep, her tiny chest raising and falling. Monica kissed her on the cheek. "I love you, babydoll," she whispered. She could smell the faint scent of Caitlin's shampoo, and it made her smile as she walked away.

Kip was now in bed, watching ESPN. The blue glow coming from the TV was the only light in the room. Exhausted, Monica got ready for bed and then crawled into it. She felt herself sinking into the soft satin sheets.

She was almost asleep when she felt a hand on her backside. She opened her eyes and sat up slightly. 

"What, honey?" she asked automatically.

"Let's do it," he said gruffly. 

Monica tensed. "Not tonight," she said, letting herself fall into the pillows. 

"But this morning you said - "

"I'm too tired, okay? Sorry, sweetie," she groaned. 

"Don't you want to be intimate with your husband?" Kip asked.

"Yes, Kip, just _not tonight_," Monica said loudly.

There was silence in the room. Then Kip said, "Don't yell at me, Monica." It was a statement - not an angry one, just a statement. He ruled this house, he ruled her, and he knew it.

_Caitlin,_ Monica thought as she drifted off to sleep, Kip's hand still gripping just above her thigh. _Just think about Caitlin..._

Caitlin was the only reason Monica was alive. Monica had met Kip when she was 25, and working as a secretary for her father's friend's company. She had nothing, and she was nothing, but he changed that. He fell for her, and Monica made herself believe she was falling for him. When he proposed to her after less than a year of dating, she accepted. She was 25, and she had no money - Kip's family was rich, and he has been successful himself as a businessman. He was older, already almost 30, and he promised that he would support her for the rest of their lives. 

She remembered what she thought as he put the ring on her finger. _He will make sure you live your life in comfort. He will give you children. And the sex isn't that bad. _

Monica refused to face the fact that she did not love Kip, only loved what he could give her. She busied herself with planning a gorgeous wedding. The ceremony was, in fact, like something out of a fairytale. She could put up a fantastic front, making even her closest family and friends believe she was head over heels in love. 

Caitlin came less than a year after they got married, and Monica was beyond thrilled. She finally had something to focus on, to love, to fulfill her. Caitlin, her little angel, her pride and joy. Her whole life. Kip - she could live with Kip. Money and sperm aside, he was a pretty nice guy - he got along with her family, he was kind and gentle and good to her - he just wasn't _the_ guy. Monica had all but given up hope of finding "the guy" by the time she met Kip. 

But her relationship with Kip had worsened since Caitlin's birth. After the initial excitement of beginning a family, Kip had seemed to lose some of his interest. He loved Caitlin, no doubt about it, but he _definitely_ wasn't an involved father. And Monica and Kip rarely talked or did things together anymore. He was spending more and more time at the office, usually leaving early in the morning and not coming home until after dinner. They exchanged a few words or watched some TV before going to sleep - they didn't have a marriage anymore, they had an agreement, an unspoken deal that stopped them from fighting and leaving each other. Because there had never been any real mutual love, the relationship was simply fizzling out and dying. Monica wouldn't be surprised if he started calling her "Mrs. Jones" soon.

Caitlin was their reason for being together... Caitlin was their reason for living. And because she loved Caitlin so much, Monica was willing sacrifice herself. 

Monica woke up late the next morning and found Caitlin, Dr Denton's and all, curled up next to her. "Caity?" she mumbled, rousing her daughter. Caitlin responded with a small movement. "Good morning, sweetie." With those words, the night before came rushing back to her. Chandler. Chandler's apartment. Making love to Chandler. She pushed him out of her mind - right now, she needed to focus on this. 

"Morning, Mommy," she heard Caitlin say sleepily from somewhere under the covers.

"Where's my little girl? Where is she?" Monica asked, reaching under the blankets to the lump that was her daughter. When she found Caitlin, she began to tickle her under her little head poked out, grinning wildly. 

"Mom-_mmy!_" Caitlin shrieked, wrapping her arms around her mother.

"Are you hungry for breakfy?" Monica asked, sitting up and pushing her hair behind her ears.

"Yeah!" Caitlin cried. "Can we have bacon and French toast hashed browns and omy-lettes?"

"I think you've got eyes that are bigger than your tummy," Monica said, standing up. "C'mon, sweetie." She held out her arms for Caitlin and Caitlin jumped into them.

Later, as Caitlin nibbled her toast and watched _Blue's Clues_, Monica sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee. She tried to read the paper but found herself unable to concentrate. The dreamy, fairy-tale-like thoughts she'd had this morning were turning to bitter, frightened ones.

_I cheated on Kip,_ she thought numbly. _What if he finds out? Will he kick me out? Will he divorce me? Will he take Caity?_ She was suddenly terrified. Cheating... it was something she'd pondered many times but never actually gone through with. Who would she cheat with, anyway? The mailman? The guy who worked at Bloomingdale's? She hardly ever left the house. 

And last night, when she thought she had found the perfect place for raw, animal sex, she found something different. In the arms of a friend who'd become a stranger, she'd felt safer and more appreciated than she had in months. And that wasn't something she could turn away from. 

She put her coffee down and glanced over at Caitlin. The little girl was engrossed in her television program. Monica raced upstairs, hearing, "What? You see a shoe?"

She reached into her coat pocket, which she'd hung up on the towel rack. The word "Chandler" was scrawled across the top, followed by the number 541-7876. Her heart pounding rapidly, Monica picked up the cordless phone and dialed with shaking hands. 

After one ring, she hung up. _What am I, a 14-year-old girl with a silly crush?_ she asked herself. _No, Monica, you're a grown woman who's just trying to bravely cheat on her husband!_ She let out a disturbing laugh.

_Maybe he'll be at work. What did he say he did again? Data something-or-other..._

"Chandler Bing," a bored voice said. Monica's heard leaped at the sound of his voice. She hadn't even realized she'd dialed.

"Um, Ch-Chandler? This is Monica," she said. 

"Monica?" Chandler asked in astonishment.

Monica smiled. "Why do you sound so surprised?" she asked.

"I just - well, I didn't really think you'd call."

"You think I could seriously walk away from what could quite possibly be the most amazing night of my life with the most amazing man I've ever met?" Monica asked sotto.

Chandler chuckled. "Well, I wasn't _that_ great. Actually," he said on second thought, "Yeah, it was pretty good. So - where are you?"

"At home," she said.

"Right."

"Where are you?" she shot back, and then immediately regretted the stupid question.

"Um - also at home," Chandler said. 

"I thought you worked."

"I do. Just - well, sometimes I go in late."

"What time will you get home tonight?" Monica asked, sick of this formal small talk that really said nothing about anything. They were acting like acquaintances forced into a telephone conversation, not two people who's had just had sex.

"Probably, I don't know, seven or eight?" Monica bit her lower lip. _Too late,_ she thought.

"Um, if you were to have a visitor around, say, five-thirty, is there any way you could be there?" she asked.

There was a pause. "I think if this visitor was important enough for me to leave work, then the answer is yes."

"Am I important enough?" she asked in an attempt to sound seductive that came out more desperate.

She could hear Chandler breathing heavily. "Make it five," he mumbled.

************

"Okay, so I should be home in two or three hours, but my husband may be home before that," Monica told the baby-sitter, Debby. Debby was 14 and lived down the street, and Caitlin absolutely loved her. 

"That sounds great, Mrs. Jones," Debby said. 

"I've already ordered pizza, but maybe afterwards you can eat some 

I-C-E-C-R-E-A-M," she spelled out. She and Debby smiled, and then, after quickly pecking Caitlin on the cheek, Monica sped away.

As she drove her Lexus - _the Lexus Kip bought you,_ Monica thought guiltily - through Scarsdale and into the city, she wondered what would happen at Chandler's place tonight. Would they talk and decide not to go on? _Yeah, right._ Still, she wasn't sure...

She entered Chandler's building, went up to his floor, and prepared to knock. She looked down at her clothes and adjusted her top so that it showed slightly more cleavage than necessary. She smoothed down her black skirt, the shortest she owned, and knocked.

A brown-haired Italian man answered the door. He looked her up and down and then said seductively, "And who might you be?" _This must be Joey,_ she thought.

Chandler appeared behind them. "Hey, Monica," he said stiffly. 

"Hey," she said.

"Who's Monica?" the roommate asked. Monica's eyes widened. Chandler had told him how close he and Joey were - she'd expected that Chandler would have told his roommate every detail. But apparently Chandler wasn't that kind of guy.

"Okay, Joe, why don't you go take a walk? A very, very long walk - perhaps to Delaware," Chandler said, pushing his friend out the door. 

"Wait - who's Monica? Chandler!" Joey said as Chandler shoved him out and pulled Monica in. 

"Sorry 'bout him," Chandler said, shaking his head. "He thinks every woman in New York comes here to see him."

Monica just smiled. "You are so cute."

"Aww, really?" Chandler said boyishly, making a mock expression of modesty.

"Yeah. In fact, you are so cute, I may have to eat - you - up," she said, pressing her lips to his. They stood in the middle of the room, making out for a few minutes, before Chandler pulled away.

"We need to talk," he said gently. 

Monica nodded resignedly. "I know."

"Mon, you're married. And you have a daughter, who I can tell you love to pieces. Do you really want to screw that up by fucking some nobody?" Chandler said, and for the first time Monica heard a harsh note in his voice. 

"You're not a nobody," Monica said. "And I'm not just fucking you. God, Chandler, I feel like - like we might actually _have_ something, something I never had with Kip. Maybe I'm stupid for thinking that. Maybe I'm stupid and selfish for stringing you along. But I really don't think I could just forget you."

Chandler stared at her. "I'm not good enough in bed for you to lie about something like that," he said flatly. "So tell me why you're lying."

"I'm not lying. I think you're amazing," she whispered, walking towards him. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, leaning close enough to feel his breath. He reached up and cupped her face in his hands, then leaned forward and kissed her gently. 

Within seconds, she was easing her way out of her blouse and he was fiddling with her bra strap. They moved into the bedroom and made love again, this time holding each other closer, taking more time, kissing more. And when they lay together on the bed, his arms wrapped tightly around her, Monica wished with all her heart that she could stay like this forever.


	3. The Secret

A/N: Hey! Sorry this took so long! I had fun writing this chapter, especially one part... tell me whatcha think! I seriously need feedback on this. 

Oh my gosh... I saw _Chicago_ for the second time last night, and now I'm listening to the soundtrack. That movie is amazing! Go see it! I just needed to say that because, well, yeah, right now I'm more obsessed with that movie than with _Friends_ *GASP* lol... okay enough of this. 

Disclaimer: Still don't own them. However, if you would like some cheese, I have an excess of that. 

CHAPTER THREE - The Secret

Later that night, after she'd come home, Monica began to work out a system. Caitlin went to pre-school on Mondays and Wednesdays - she could escape for four hours then. Kip took Caitlin to Indian Princesses on Thursday nights, but that was only for an hour and a half. Debby was available to baby-sit on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Sundays, but Kip would be home most Sundays - it was all so confusing.

And deceitful. Monica felt guilty for playing Kip so cruelly, for planning out her affair, but she couldn't help it. After being with Chandler twice, she knew that she could not walk away from him, even if it meant ruining her marriage. 

Unfortunately, she couldn't very well leave Kip, either. He was Caitlin's father, and despite the lack of passion in their relationship, they did _have_ a relationship. And more importantly, Monica thought, he provided Monica with all the money she would ever need. 

And so the guilt ate her from the inside out, she just imagined kissing Chandler again and then everything would be okay. She felt something for him, a sort of passion within her that had never quite been released before, not with Kip, not with anyone. She wanted Chandler for more than just the sex. The sex was great, yes, but he also talked to her so kindly, and they had such intelligent conversations. He seemed to care about her in a way Kip never had. And she cared about him in a way she'd never cared about Kip. 

And that scared her. 

***********

The days began to pass much more quickly for Monica now that she was involved with Chandler. She had something to look forward to, something to anticipate - his soft kisses on her neck, his adorable smile. She was happier in every way possible. Having a secret was thrilling, and being with Chandler was phenomenal.

Kip had no idea that his wife was having a heated romance with a 33 year old data processor in Manhattan. He seemed happier now that his wife was happier, and although this drove a stake of guilt through Monica, she forced it away every time. She tried to make herself believe that someday she and Chandler would end it, and things could go back to the way there were before, but in her heart Monica knew that could neevr be true. She'd found the man she wanted, she'd had a taste of the outside world, and even though she'd only known Chandler for a few weeks, she knew she couldn't leave him. They continued to make love in his office or apartment on the sly, while Caitlin was at school or with a friend. Sometimes they went out to lunch, or walked through Central Park.

And although the secret was titillating, Monica yearned to share it with someone - particularly Rachel Greene, her oldest friend. But then, she realized, although she still saw Rachel a lot, she was engaged to Monica's brother Ross and would undoubtedly spill the beans. Her other friends - or "shopping buddies", as Kip liked to tease - well, even thinking of confiding in one of them was ridiculous. They were proper, they spent their husbands money all day, and they shunned any other housewife who put a toe out of line. Monica had met most of them during a Mommy and Me class at the country club when Caitlin was just a baby, and soon after she met them, it came out that one was cheating on her husband with the Puerto Rican pool boy. Without even hearing their friend's side of the story, they immediately cut all ties with the woman. Despite the shallowness and insincerity of these friends, Monica needed to keep them in her life. And so the secret remained a secret. 

Things were perfect until one night about a month after they'd begun their affair. They were lying in bed at Chandler's apartment, and Monica's mind was far from her daughter, who was home with Debby. Chandler was softly kissing her neck and back.

"Iwannmoolivim," Chandler murmured from behind her.

"What?" Monica asked. Chandler came up and stared her straight in the eye.

"I want you to leave him," Chandler said. "I want you to leave Kip. Tonight. We can run away together, us and Caitlin."

Monica stared at him, open-mouthed. "Chandler, I told you - "

"I don't care," Chandler said gruffly. "I can't take this secrecy anymore. I want you so bad it hurts. I want to have you all for myself, and I know that's selfish, but Mon, I think you want that too. Look, you can go home tonight and get Caitlin, and tell Kip that your leaving and then we can go. I don't know where we'll go yet, but I have savings, I can get another job and we can live - "

"Shh," Monica said, putting one finger over his lips. "I can't do that," she whispered, trying hard not to cry.

"Why not?" Chandler asked childishly.

"Because of Caitlin, dammit, I _told_ you," Monica said angrily. "And Kip! I can't just take her away from her father! Why can't we just... just stay here together, I don't want it to be complicated, it can be simple and perfect - "

"Monica, I can't do this anymore!" Chandler yelled, sitting up in bed. "Do you know what this is doing to me? It's _torture!_ You're all I ever think about! I can't get you out of my head - I'm always wondering, where is she now? Is she with Kip? Is she kissing Kip? Is she having another life? Does she still want me? Is she _happy?_ Does she - "

"Shut up!" Monica screamed, standing up. "Just shut up! I don't want to hear this, dammit!" She pulled the comforter off Chandler's bed and wrapped it around herself. Chandler's words had made her heart pound so ferociously that she put her hand on her chest to stop it. She was near tears - not because she was angry with him, but because she always thought everything he did. She _wanted_ to run away with him. She _wanted_ to be with him every second of every day - but she couldn't. Why could he understand that?

Chandler was staring at her, his face pale. "Mon - "

"No, Chandler, you know what? If you can't _understand_ that I have a _child_ to raise, that I have a family, well, maybe we should just end this right now. Because as much as I would like to leave Kip right now, I _can't._ Can you please try _not_ to be selfish and just - just _get it?_" Monica was near hysterics now. 

"I'm - I'm sorry," Chandler whispered.

"I need to go," Monica murmured, blinded by tears that she didn't want Chandler to see. She hurriedly threw on her clothes and ran out of the apartment. This wasn't fair, she thought distraughtly. None of it was fair. Why had she finally found someone she really liked, really _wanted_, for satisfied her in so many ways, when it was way too late? Why hadn't she found Chandler tears ago, before Caitlin, before Kip...

She sobbed most of the way home, but when she reached her house, she wiped her eyes and quickly reapplied her make-up. She sauntered inside, holding the Bloomingdale's bag she'd planted there a few days before to use as an excuse for going to see Chandler.

Kip and Caitlin were sitting together on the couch, watching the Knicks game. "All right!" Kip shouted as Monica walked in, presumably because of the three-pointer just scored.

"All right!" Caitlin echoed her father. Monica smiled.

"Hell-ooo," Monica said as she walked into the den.

"Hi, Mommy," Caitlin and Kip said together. 

"Caity, dontcha think it's time you got in bed? It's getting late," Monica said.

"But the game's not over!" Caitlin said.

"Yeah, the game's not over!" Kip whined. 

"Daddy'll tell you the score tomorrow," Monica said, holding out her hand for her daughter. Caitlin grabbed it, and Monica took her upstairs, tucked her in, and said good-night. The little girl was asleep in minutes.

Monica went back downstairs and went into the den. She walked over to the couch and snuggled next to Kip. Surprised but pleased, he put his arm around her. 

"Is something wrong, baby?" he asked, sensing her sadness.

"No."

"How was shopping?"

"Fine."

Kip turned to look at Monica. "Sweetheart, you haven't been this quiet since Bloomingdale's announced peasant tops were going out of style," he joked. Monica smiled, but the comment stung her. Did he see he as a typical woman, a yuppie who lived off her husband's money to buy clothes? 

Monica sat up, suddenly determined to teach him - and Chandler - a lesson or two.

"Kip?" she said. "Let's have sex."

As they lie in bed an hour later, Kip stroked Monica's shoulder, making goose bumps pop up over her body. "That was amazing, honey," he muttered. 

"Uh huh," Monica said. It wasn't, not to her - because she didn't feel the passion toward him that she felt for Chandler. "Great.''

"Well, good night," he said, and with one last kiss, rolled over. Monica turned away from him, her tears shining in the moonlight.

********

While Caitlin was at school the next day, Monica went down to Chandler's office. She'd stayed up thinking about him all night, and she knew she would be miserable until they either worked things out or ended it.

She went into his office and found him typing away at his computer. He looked up, his face hardening when he saw her. 

"We need to talk," Monica said.

"Okay." Monica sat down at the chair in front of Chandler's desk, feeling more like a business associate than a lover. This feeling intensified as Chandler turned back to his computer and began clicking away. 

"Chandler."

"What?" _Click, click, click._

"Could you please listen to me?"

"I'm listening." _Clickclickclickclickclick._

"I slept with Kip last night," she said loudly. 

Chandler stopped typing and stared at the computer screen blankly. Then he turned to her and sneered, "Is that the only reason you came here or were you planning to chop up my heart and _feed it to me _as well_?_"

"It's that first time since I've been with you," Monica said calmly. "And I hated it. I want you to know that."

"Well, I'm sorry I'm depriving you of good sex with your husband."

"For God's sake, Chandler, don't you understand what I'm trying to tell you? I don't _want_ to be with Kip anymore. It felt like - it felt like nothing last night, nothing compared to being with you. I'm not going to have sex with him for as long as I can help it." There. She'd said it. She'd known it for a while, but saying it made it truly real, and now - now, she could never change it.

Chandler finally looked at her, his face open and wounded. "I'm sorry about last night," he said. "I never should have asked you to leave him. I know you can't do that, and it's selfish of me to ask. I just - I don't know how much longer I can take being so close and yet completely unable to reach what I - what I _need_ - " 

"I know," Monica said, reaching across his desk and touching his cheek gently. "I know."

He took her hand and kissed her fingertips, sending chills up her spine like little fireworks, exploding in front of her eyes.

"You know what the best kind of sex is?" Monica asked as his lips moved up her arm.

"Hmm?" Chandler asked.

She swept her arm across his desk, knocking some files and pens onto the floor. Then she looked at him and smiled seductively.

"Make-up sex." 


	4. The Night

A/N: All right, I have several things to say about last night's SAG Awards. A) Jennifer Aniston had waaaay too much eye make-up on - again. B) Did you see Matt and Matty's sunglasses? Matt's looked like they belonged on a four year old and Matty's were purple. C) Neither Brad Pitt nor David Arquette came, so Jen and CC seemed to be each other's dates. Go figure. 

Okay, I'm done. This chapter is kind of pointless... another filler. :) 

Disclaimer: I don't own them. 

CHAPTER FOUR - The Night 

Two weeks later, Kip insisted on taking his wife out to dinner at a fancy restaurant. "I've got something to tell you," he kept saying. Monica had half a mind to refuse, to make up some illness or excuse, but she'd been avoiding so many private moments with Kip over the past few weeks that she was afraid he'd get suspicious.

"So what do you have to tell me?" Monica asked Kip as they entered the restaurant. 

"Wait until we sit down," he said with a smile that was half excited, half anxious. His hand slid down the small of her back, and Monica resisted the urge to shudder. 

Suddenly, a familiar laugh rang out in the lobby of the restaurant. _Oh my God,_ Monica thought. _Oh my God, it couldn't be..._

"Monica?" a dumbfounded voice said. Monica and Kip both spun around.

Chandler was standing there, staring at her with wide eyes. As he saw Kip take a step closer to Monica, his jaw dropped and he panicked. "Um, nope, wrong person, sorry."

He looked at the floor. Kip stared at him, mystified - as did the big-bosomed brunette on Chandler's arm. 

"Who's this guy?" Kip asked loudly. 

"Um," Monica said. She considered pretending she had no idea who he was, but then realized that that simply wouldn't work. "Omigod, Chandler, um, Burg, was it?" she asked in a voice that she hoped sounded interested but not over-excited.

Chandler's head whipped up. "Bing," he said, ashen-faced.

"Right," Monica said, nodding. "Wow, I haven't seen you in like, forever."

Chandler caught on quickly. "Right, since, um, college."

"Yeah." They stared at each other.

Suddenly, Kip stuck his hand out and said amiably, "Hi, I'm Kip Jones, Monica's husband. I'm assuming by the way you're looking at my wife that you used to date." 

Chandler let out a strangled laugh. "Oh, no, no - "

"Definitely not," Monica added. "Me and Chandler? _Ugh!_" She avoided Chandler's hurt glare. 

"I'm Rebecca," the brunette said, clearing her throat and glaring at Chandler. Chandler turned to her, seemingly just remembering she was there. 

"Oh, right, sorry," Chandler said. 

"Jones, party of two, Jones, party of two," an amplified voice rang out from a nearby speaker.

"That'd be us," Kip said cheerfully. Monica could see that the apparent friendliness was really just a cover for angry wondering and probably even jealousy. 

"Uh huh," Monica mumbled. "Well, um, Chandler, it was nice to see you again." 

Monica grabbed Kip's hand and steered him away.

"Sure," Chandler called to her as she sped away. "See you at the _reunion._" Monica winced at the biting, mocking tone in his voice.

As she and Kip sat down at their table, Kip picked up a menu and began to look through it. After several tense seconds in which Monica wrung her sweaty hands under the table, Kip said, in the same strained voice, "So - _did_ you ever date that Chester guy?"

"Chandler," Monica corrected.

"Same difference. What a name - Chandler _Bing?_ Hi, I'm Chandler Bing, my parents were deranged, they scarred me for life and I'm now pathetic. Am I right?"

__

Don't slap him, Monica thought firmly. _Keep your hands under the table. _

"Ha. Right."

"You dated, didn't you?" Kip said curtly, leaning forward and staring straight at her.

"No!" Monica said, a little too forcefully. "Of course not. In fact - I think Chandler's gay."

"Really?" Kip said. "Didn't look too gay with that fine piece of meat hangin' all over him, that's for sure."

Monica began to grind her teeth, both at the ridiculing way Kip was demeaning Chandler and the reference to his date. "Yeah, he's in the closet. Dates women too - keep his mother happy." She was incredibly thankful as a waiter approached their table. 

"We'll have two of the roast duck with vegetables and cream sauce," Kip said. Monica stared at him - she'd almost forgotten about the way Kip had decided anything he liked, Monica liked. She could feel her blood begin to boil. 

"Soup or salad?" the waiter asked.

"Salad," Kip replied, just as Monica opened her mouth to say "Soup."

"And what kind of dressing?"

"I'll have Caesar. Honey, what kind would you like?" Kip asked, turning to Monica. 

"Wow, thanks for asking," Monica said sarcastically. "And, you know, it's funny - I don't remember ever picking up a menu. It's a good thing you can read my mind to see what to order for me!"

The waiter snorted, and Kip glowered at him. Then he turned back to Monica. "_Sweetie_? Your dressing?"

"I'll have the house, thank you," she said to the waiter, handing him her menu. "Thank you ever so much." The waiter, hiding a smile, hurried away.

"Is something wrong?" Kip asked, dropping his gentle façade as soon as the waiter was out of earshot. "You were awfully snippety just now."

Monica took a deep breath. "Nothing's wrong, _honey._ I was just hoping to get the filet mignon tonight. It's nothing, really," she said in the sugary-sweet voice she usually reserved for teenage store clerks and her mother-in-law. 

"Oh, well, we could call the waiter back," Kip said.

"No, that's okay." She began to search the restaurant for something to talk about, and her eyes landed on Chandler and the blonde being seated across the room. She caught Chandler's eye and he shook his head slightly, but she turned away, suddenly burning with anger. With Kip calmed down, Monica was free to freak out about other things - namely, Chandler and his date. His _date._ She shuddered, wondering if she would go home with him tonight - if she would sleep with him in the same bed as she did - if she would be better than she was...

"Monica?" Kip said sharply, and she turned to him. 

"Yes?"

"I have something to tell you, remember?"

"Oh, yes, of course." Monica focused her attention on her husband, who took her hands in his. 

"I got a promotion. I am now the vice president of Lynnford Incorporated."

Monica smiled, genuinely happy for Kip. He'd been working hard to reach that position, not for the money, necessarily, but for the glory and status that came with it. 

"That's great!" Monica said, leaning across the table to kiss him on the lips. 

When she pulled back, she saw Chandler watching them, and her heart plummeted. His face was turning a strange color, and his lips were set in a hard line. He turned away. 

"... so I'll have to travel a lot more, starting with a business trip next Thursday," Kip was saying. "Monica? Are you listening?"

"Uh huh," Monica said. "What's next Thursday, exactly?"

"Business trip to Sacramento, California," Kip said. "Mon, you look sad. Aren't you happy for me?"

"Of course! Thrilled." Her eyes darting to Chandler, she leaned over and kissed Kip again, harder this time.

And she felt guilty as all hell.

Later, when she and Kip arrived home, Monica told him she was tired and was going up to take a bath. She grabbed the phone on the way in, turned the Jacuzzi tub on at full blast, and leaned against the bathroom sink, dialing Chandler's number.

"Hello," Chandler said dully.

"Am I interrupting your date?" Monica asked coolly.

"No. Am I interrupting yours?"

"Good comeback," Monica said, but it brought a smile to her face.

"I try," Chandler grumbled. 

"So who's the blonde?"

"Why do you want to know?" Chandler asked defiantly.

"Don't be a baby, Chandler," Monica said.

"Some chick my mother set me up with," Chandler said.

"And did you hit it off? A little rub rub rub under the table? Maybe a nice goodnight kiss?" Monica asked, surprised at herself for being jealous.

"Oh, what about you and Kip? Did your lips have _glue_ on them or something? Speaking of Kip, he's a pleasant man! Loved the immediate accusations of screwing you!"

"Yeah, well, if you hadn't practically _screamed_ 'Monica' right in the middle of a restaurant when you _saw_ I was with him, none of this would have happened!" Monica said irritably.

"Oh, I'm sorry if you saunter by me, swish your banana-kiwi hair into my face and proceed to let another man squeeze your _ass!_" Chandler yelled.

Monica laughed. "My _banana-kiwi_ hair?"

"Yeah! It must be your shampoo or something... it smells so nice."

Monica shook his head. "Chandler Bing, you amaze me."

"Yeah, I amaze myself sometimes," Chandler said in a slightly self-deprecating way.

"I'm sorry about tonight," Monica said.

"Yeah, me too."

"So we're okay?"

"Were we ever _not?_"

There was a moment of silence in which they both smiled. "You know, sometimes I wonder what we're doing here," Monica said quietly.

"Well, usually we kiss or have sex, sometimes there's a little - "

"You know what I mean," Monica said. "I mean, with me married and Caity, and you... not being my husband and all. Your know what you were saying, when you asked me to leave him? You know why that made me so angry?"

"Why?"

"Because I feel the same way. I _want_ to leave him. I can't take this anymore. But there's nothing we can do."

"Except kill him."

"Don't even _joke_ about that," Monica said in horror. "Oh, God, Chandler, don't even - "

"Honey, I was kidding. Listen, Joey just got home and I think he's starting to wonder why I've been so happy lately, so I should go before I get any happier. Night."

"G'night," Monica said, as Chandler hung up with a click. She stared at the phone in her hand.

"Love you."


	5. The Discovery

A/N: Okay... I just wanted to update because I'm going away this weekend and I wrote a lot last night and I have bunches more stories and I wanna finish this one. LOL.

If anyone has any Pez they would like to donate to Becca, please e-mail it to

BorisIsTheBestThingSinceSlicedBread@SexyBiotch.com

Don't ask. 

(Oh, and Boris, the guinea pig is the PERFECT scapegoat. Just gimme a call and we'll plot Becca's murder right away.)

Okay, and to anyone who has no idea what I've been talking about, I'll apologize here. I'm kinda in a crazy mood... and this makes it look like this chappie will be happy. If you believe that, you are sadly mistaken...

Disclaimer: I don't own the Friends, although I DO own this convo. 

Becca: guess who has to pee  
Becca: brb  
Me: hahhaha  
Me: hmmm lemme think...  
Me: uma thurman?  
Me: ummm  
Me: the vice president of zimbabwe?  
Me: wait, i have it!!!!!  
Me: is it YOU?

Me: hey, you never know  
Me: maybe, SOMEWHERE, uma thurman DOES hafta pee!  
Becca: maybe!  
Becca: we should find out  
Me: omg yeah!  
Becca: hey uma, do u havta pee?  
Me: ok, i'll check the west coast, you check the east  
Becca7: lol! ok 

Becca: ok i cant find him!!  
Me: IALOL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
Me: BECCA  
Me: UMA THURMAN  
Me: IS  
Me: A  
Me: WOMAN  
Becca: seriously? wow now u know why i have a C in world civ...  


We are too much.

CHAPTER FIVE - The Discovery

Monica watched as Kip waved to her and Caitlin as his taxi sped away. It was Thursday, and Kip was headed to the Golden State for a five-day long business trip. And Monica was going to make the most of the situation. She hadn't felt this elated about a guy since Kip had bought her a Tiffany bracelet on their sixth date. Everything was going to be perfect for the next week - all love-making and naked suppers and feeding each other strawberries in the bathtub. 

_Well, maybe no strawberries,_ Monica thought. Chandler didn't strike her as a strawberry kind of guy. But, regardless, she was happy that she could, in essence, have a chance to cheat on her husband in peace. 

She and Caitlin raced back inside after Kip left, where Monica gave her daughter a bath and dressed her in a fancy dress and black Mary Jane's. Monica's parents were taking Caitlin to a matinee performance of "Annie" and then out to dinner. They had been told that Monica was going out with some of her girlfriends.

Monica was grateful when her parents arrived a little late - it gave them hardly any time to question her about everything in her life. She ushered them out of the house and then put her plan to work.

First, she called Chandler at work. "Chandler Bing," Chandler droned.

"It's me."

"Hey, me," Chandler said.

"When are you leaving today?"

"I don't know, in an hour or two?"

"How about now?"

"I think I could finagle it. What's the occasion?"

"I was thinkin' you could come down to my house. 

"What about... you know... your family?"

"Caity's with my parents."

"And...?"

"Kip's on a business trip."

"I'll be there in twenty minutes," Chandler said immediately.

Monica smiled and set down the phone. Then she took a shower, sprayed on perfume, and put on a teddy she'd just bought from Victoria's Secret - black with attached garters - and a bathrobe over it. Then she opened a bottle of champagne, with another unopened bottle nearby.

When the doorbell rang, Monica finished applying her ruby-red lipstick and hurried to the door, holding the flannel robe around herself.

Chandler, wearing a silly smile, was standing there.

"Hell, Mrs. Jones, I'm here to pick up that... thing you wanted me to pick up," Chandler said loudly, presumably in case any neighbors were listening.

"Come on in," Monica said at an equal volume. Chandler stepped inside and Monica shut the door behind him. "Nice touch there."

"I was an actor in my past life," Chandler said. Within minutes, they were racing up to the bedroom, their lips never parting.

They were lying in bed, naked, sipping champagne and resting, when Monica heard a noise downstairs - a door opening. She sat straight up. 

"What was that?" she hissed.

"What?"

"I heard a noise."

"It was probably nothing."

"No, I definitely heard a door open."

"Mon - "

"Shh," Monica said. She'd heard a small clatter. And then footsteps - hurrying up the stairs. She heard the creak on the first landing. She knew those heavy footsteps.

"Oh my God," Monica choked. "Hide!" She pushed Chandler out of bed - but it was too late.

The door crashed open. And there was Kip, red-faced and infuriated. With a knife in his hand.

His eyes swept over Monica, cowering in terror on the bed, and Chandler, sitting on the ground where Monica had shoved him. They widened and then narrowed; looking at Monica, he seemed unable to speak for a moment.

"I knew it," he whispered. 

"Kip, this isn't what it looks like - "

"Not what it looks like?" Kip roared. "You mean, my wife of six years _isn't_ sleeping with another man? In _my house?_ How long before that night, Monica?"

"What do you mean?" she gasped utterly baffled.

"I knew it was him, that night last week," Kip said, nodding toward Chandler. His upper lip was covered in a sheen of sweat, and a vein on his forehead was bulging. The large knife in his hand was shaking. Monica glanced at Chandler, who was staring at Kip with wide eyes as Kip stood over the bed Monica was sitting in. 

"I knew it was this _bastard_ all along," Kip continued. "Gay - _bullshit_, I knew it was all bullshit! The way you looked at each other, I knew what you were doing. I even had suspicions beforehand, but that just sealed the deal."

"How did you know?" Monica asked. She figured, now, the best way of talking Kip out of murdering them was to keep him calm. For being in such a frightening situation, Monica was surprisingly calm. She knew her situation wasn't good - here she was with her lover lying naked on the floor with a champagne glass knocked over beside him. 

"I'm not an idiot, Monica. At first I believed everything you told me - ran into an old friend. Sale at Macy's. Lunch with your mother. All the goddamned excuses. But then - then I just added it up. You're playing me false, and I won't take it anymore."

"Weren't you going on a - "

"Business trip? There is no business trip, not today," Kip scoffed. "I leave tomorrow. I knew your parents were taking Caitlin today and I knew you would have your little gigolo up here. Well, _Chandler Bing_ - it's time you paid for ripping my family apart and messing around with my wife. I've looked you up - you have nobody. A roommate who won't come looking for you for days, and by then you'll be _long gone_. And Monica - well, sweetheart, I have to say I'm only sorry that Caitlin won't have her mother anymore. I'll be gone on a business trip and your poor parent's will find you slashed to pieces. And I'll be the perfect mourning husband. You set it all up much too nicely for me."

Monica was truly horrified now. Kip had gone crazy - he was slowly advancing on them. He was going to kill them, Monica had no doubt. She was going to die, crouched here in this bed. She choked back a sob - she didn't want to die; she had Caitlin, her precious little girl; and now she had Chandler. Desperation flooding through her, she glanced at Chandler. He was sitting up, and poised to spring. She suddenly grasped at a tiny bit of hope. 

"Kip," Monica said, hoping to keep the attention on herself. "Kip, baby, I'm so sorry. I know I messed up. But I _love_ you. And we both love Caitlin. Do you really want to take her mother away from her? Do you know how _horrible_ that would be?"

Kip didn't answer. Chandler slowly edged toward him.

"Honey, I promise I will do anything to make this up to you. I was crazy, and, um, drunk when Chandler and I met. And I am _so, so_ sorry. Please, please don't do anything crazy." Kip slowly lowered his arm. 

And then Chandler jumped. He dove at Kip and grabbed the arm holding the knife. Kip turned to him and swung his other arm, narrowly missing Chandler's jaw. Then he tried to raise the knife again, but Chandler was holding his arm down. He lashed out and the knife ripped into Chandler's arm. Chandler yelled, and Monica cried out as blood dripped onto the floor.

Monica took a chance to lean across the bed and reach into Kip's dresser drawer. It had to be here - it just had to be - 

Chandler was trying to fight Kip off, but it was difficult with an injured arm. "Run, Monica, run!" he shouted, backing away from Kip.

_Aha!_ Monica thought. She pulled something out of the rawer. It was a gun.

"Get away from him!" she screamed to Kip. He looked at her, shock on his face - and then a grin, a wild, maniacal grin. He moved to Chandler, raising the arm with knife. "One more step and I'll shoot you!"

"Bitch," Kip spluttered, stumbling towards Chandler. "You don't have the guts!" Monica stared at the gun in her hands.

"I'll see you in hell," Monica said, and she pulled the trigger.

_Bang._

*Yen*


	6. The Lie

A/N: I laughed out loud when I read Llew's review - "Ok, I hope she knows how to aim"!!! And you're right - NEVER fool around at your own house! Haha. Boris: Yes, he eez a verry seexy peece of ass! Joolz: It kinda reminded me of that scene in _Chicago_ too... speaking of _Chicago_, Best Picture, a-whoo-hoo! I saw it three times :) Blueyes: I know, I thought about changing the A/N to work with the chapter, but I had too much fun! Although it was weird... And (last but not least) Bec: I miss you! hehe... that is all.

I was looking at FFNet and realizing that people aren't updating very much and thinking that, well, with the war and everything, people might think it's stupid and meaningless and trivial to write and post fanfiction and try to have fun. But in my opinion, we can't stop living. That's exactly what they want. We can think about the war and pray for it or protest it or ignore it or do whatever you want to do - but we can't change anything by being miserable. And I'm going to quote Nicole Kidman because I think it fits here - "Why come to the Academy Awards? Because art is important." 

CHAPTER SIX - The Lie

Monica watched as Kip's eyes widened. His hand covered the bullet wound in his chest. Blood poured down his chest. He opened his mouth but couldn't speak. He stumbled backwards and fell flat on his back. He lay there and did not move.

The gun was still smoking. Monica's hands were shaking, but she was not afraid.

"Are you okay?" she asked Chandler.

"I think so," he said. "Monica, I think - I think he might be dead." Chandler stood up and examined Kip carefully. "No. He's still alive." He sucked in a deep, rattling breath, and then turned to Monica.

"Give me the gun."

"What?" she asked in shock.

"Just give it to me. Monica!" He reached over and snatched the gun from her hands. Carefully, he took the sheet and wiped it off. Then he grabbed it with his bare hands and touched it everywhere. Monica could hear the faint sounds of sirens in the distance. 

"Now go wash your arms."

"Huh?"

"You have to get the gunpowder residue off. And then kneel by Kip and start crying and screaming. Then call 911."

She washed her arms and then wrapped dressed quickly. "What do I tell them?" she asked, picking up the phone.

"Tell them someone shot your husband," Chandler said as he began to pull on his clothes. Monica shook her head, suddenly realizing what he was doing.

"I won't let you take the blame for this," she said, standing up.

"Yes, you will," Chandler said, buttoning his shirt.

"No!"

"You have a daughter, Monica," Chandler said, gripping her shoulders. "You have a daughter and a family. Do you really want your daughter to grow up knowing her mother killed her father? Do you know how much that would destroy Caitlin? Just like you were saying to Kip..." 

The sirens were coming closer. It made sense, Monica knew it did. _But it's wrong,_ she thought. _I already shot someone - I should be punished. I shouldn't let Chandler do this..._

She dialed 911. "911, how can I help you?" the voice asked. "My - my husband was shot," she said without emotion.

"Your husband was shot? Where are you, ma'am?"

"At home," Monica said. She said the address. Then she hung up.

"Monica," Chandler whispered from behind her. "Don't tell anybody anything. Everything's going to be fine, all right? Don't tell them anything."

"I won't," she said, fervently wiping at her eyes. "I promise. 

"It was self-defense," he said. "It doesn't matter if it was you or me. _It was self-defense._ That's all you say. He was coming at us with a knife. He was threatening to kill us. I grabbed a gun and shot him as he lunged. It's all the truth." 

Monica nodded, unable to get her mouth to move.

"Come here," he said, holding his arms out. She ran to him, and they kissed one long kiss, full of sorrow and shock, terror and numbness. She jolted away, something startling her so horribly that she could barely speak. 

"Chandler - what happens if he wakes up?" she asked, suddenly horrified. "He'll know - "

"Police!" a voice shouted from downstairs. "Police! We're coming in!" There was a crash downstairs, like a window being broken, and then - "Up here! There's a light! Ma'am!" 

Chandler shoved Monica away from him, and on quivering legs, she sat down on the bed. Chandler held the gun in his hands, staring at Kip.

Several police, armed with guns, burst into the room. Monica let out a scream as they ran at Chandler, flattening him against the wall and pulling the gun from his hand. Another officer hurried over to Monica, and several more dropped down next to Kip. The room was filled with people, and Monica was like a child lost in a crowd. She began to sob. She looked at Chandler, who was pale, his eyes darting wildly at the officers surrounding him. He was clamped painfully into handcuffs and pulled roughly from the room. Before he disappeared, he turned to Monica.

"I love you," he mouthed silently.

Monica could not speak.

******** 

Monica sat in the hard, hospital waiting room chair, staring blankly at the coffee table in front of her. There was a television showing a soccer game in Spanish over in the corner, and an old woman sleeping on a couch, but other than that, the room was empty. 

She wondered what was going on outside the room. On the way into the waiting room, she'd passed by several occupied rooms, but she'd tried not to look inside of them. But nothing could block out the whir and beep of machines or the soft crying of a relative. 

"Paging Doctor Alden to the ICU, paging Doctor Alden to the ICU," a static voice said. 

_ICU, ICU,_ Monica thought numbly. That's where Kip was. The Intensive Care Unit. Because she'd shot him. _She'd shot her husband._ It still had not sunken in, despite everything going on around her.

She'd watched as Chandler was led away in handcuffs, as the paramedics loaded Kip onto a stretcher and out him in an ambulance. She'd ridden to the hospital in the back of a cop car, and somehow she'd ended up in this waiting room. She knew the police would be questioning her soon enough, but for now she was here. She was dazed and confused and frightened, but she could only sit numbly in this waiting room at this damn white-walled hospital.

Monica wondered what was happening to Chandler right now. What was he telling them? He was going to take the blame for her... he was going to say he'd shot Kip. 

A nurse suddenly entered the room, jolting Monica from her thoughts. "Mrs. Jones?" she said quietly.

Monica looked up at her. "That's me," she said hoarsely. 

"The doctor would like to speak with you," she said, turning away.

**************

Dead.

Kip was dead.

"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Jones, but there was nothing we could do," the doctor had said. "He'd already lost too much blood."

She'd nodded, her mind blank. 

"Would you like to sit down?" the doctor asked, pulling up a chair. 

Monica nodded again.

"Is there anyone we should call?" the doctor had said, staring at her intently. 

"My - my brother," Monica replied. "Ross Geller." She'd given him the number, and then he'd left her in peace. With her thoughts, the thoughts she could not escape.

_I killed my husband. _

She had no emotion, just the thoughts. _I killed my baby's father. Caitlin doesn't have a daddy anymore because of me._ _Because of my selfishness. My stupidity. My blindness and my desire to have more. _

She was grateful when Ross and Rachel burst into the room a while later. They only stared at her for a few seconds before Rachel let out a sob and threw her arms around Monica.

"You poor, poor baby," she murmured into her ear. "Oh, my God, Monica."

"Are you okay?" Ross asked, grabbing her hand. "Did he hurt you? Mon, talk to me."

"I - I..." she trailed off, and for the first time felt wave upon wave on emotions. She cried out like a wounded animal and sobbed into Rachel's shoulder. "He's dead," she whispered. "He's dead."

When she pulled away several minutes later, feeling shaky and exhausted, she asked, "Who has Caity?"

"Mom and Dad," Ross said. "We didn't tell her anything yet." Ross took a deep breath. "Mon, it's okay if you don't want to talk about it yet, but I have to ask - the police said it was... it was Chandler Bing. Please tell me that's not true." Ross looked desperate to believe that his best friend from college was not a murderer.

"It - it was," Monica murmured, staring at the ground.

"Wha - how - why was he there?" Ross asked. When Monica didn't reply, he continued, "Were you having an - "

"Mrs. Jones?" the doctor said, entering the room. "We need you to identify your husband's body."

With Rachel's arm around her shoulders, Monica stumbled down the hall. The doctor led them into a small, silent room. There was a figure lying on the bed, covered in a sheet. Monica did not want to see what was under the sheet, although she already knew, could already picture it in her mind's eye.

With a sympathetic glance, the doctor pulled the sheet away from the top of the figure. Rachel gasped and turned away, putting her head on Ross's shoulder. Ross reached out and grabbed Monica's arm as if to steady her, but Monica stood stock-still.

Kip's face was white and translucent, with blotches of blue. His eyes were open in slits, staring straight at the ceiling. He was not peaceful, as some people looked after death - he looked angry and scared. 

"Mrs. Jones, I need you to verify that this is in fact your husband, Franklin Kip Jones," the doctor said softly.

"Yes," Monica whispered, her mouth as dry as sandpaper. "It is."

Monica left the hospital several hours later. Kip's parents and two sisters had arrived, but she merely hugged them and left without saying a word. She felt guilty, now, in their company, guiltier than hell. As she hugged Kip's mother, who sobbed into her shirt, she felt like she might throw up. Finally, seeing her distress, Ross and Rachel pulled her away. They went to Monica's parents' house, where Caitlin was. 

When they arrived, Monica walked quickly into the house, and, for the first time she could remember, ran straight into her mother's open arms. She really cried now, sobbing openly, feeling her mother stroke her hair and whisper, "Shh." She had never been comfortable in her mother's arms - hugging had always been an awkward, forced thing - but now it was the only place Monica felt safe.

When her tears finally quieted, Monica asked, "Did you tell Caity yet?"

"No," Judy Geller said, shaking her head. "She's upstairs with your father. Honey," she said, sensing what her daughter wanted to do, "just wait until tomorrow. It's too soon - "

"I have to tell her," Monica said. She went upstairs to the guest bedroom, where her father was reading Caitlin a story. They both looked up when she entered.

"Monica," Jack Geller said, standing up and almost running to his daughter. "Thank God you're all right." He hugged Monica tightly.

"Mommy!" Caitlin cried happily. Monica pulled away and looked at her daughter, who was grinning. Just the sight of Caitlin's face, which so resembled Kip's, made Monica's eyes fill again. She blinked rapidly, forcing the tears away.

"Hi, Caity," Monica said, sitting on the bed next to her daughter. "Come here, honey." Caitlin crawled until her lap.

"Are you sad, Mommy?" Caitlin asked. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, babygirl," Monica said. "You didn't do anything. But Mommy needs to talk to you about something."

"What?"

"It's about Daddy," Monica said. "He's - he's not coming home."

Caitlin stared at her quizzically. "What do you mean?"

"He had to leave."

"I know, he went on a business trip, silly."

"No, he went somewhere else."

"Where did he go?"

"He went to heaven," Monica said gently.

"When is he coming back?"

Monica took a deep breath. "He's never coming back. You're not going to see him anymore."

"Doesn't he love me?" Caitlin asked, pouting.

"Oh, baby, he loves you more than anything else in the world. But sometimes bad things happen to people and we can't do anything about it. That's what happened to Daddy."

"So he's in heaven now?"

"Yes."

"Can I go visit him?" Caitlin asked innocently.

"No, sweetie," Monica said, rocking her daughter in her arms and crying into her hair. "You can't go visit him. He's gone. Forever."


	7. The Aftermath

A/N: Wow it's been billions of years since I've updated this so I have stuff to say... catnamedzane (or Brittany, I don't know which one you want me to call you... I have the utmost respect for you and I feel like a little peasant talking to you but whatever) - Monica IS sort of a selfish buttmunch and Chandler is also crazy but hey, this is how the story goes :); Jenni - Wow I haven't talked to you in ages! *sob* get online! Me misses you! BluEyes - I want that Chandler too! That's why I write him like that. I also enjoy writing 'Pathetic Chandler' and YOU, of all people, know what I mean. And while I'm talking to you... if you kill Chandler I will... do something really bad!!! Hehe... Julie - Haha! You ARE mean! lol, j/k... I was just trying to make her all innocent and stuff. 

Yeah, that's it. If you have no idea what I'm talking about go back and read ur reviews! 

Disclaimer: I don't own them, but i am about to own "Friends: The Complete Third Season" and that's as close as I'm going to get. 

OH MY GOD! BECCA BOO! Could I REALLY forget you? Never! Just had to get you back for your profile. Hehe :D You know I luv u!! Oh, and I *was* taking creative license with the Franklin thing... I just can't see someone naming their child "Kip." It's gotta be a nickname.

CHAPTER Seven - The Aftermath

The weeks after Kip's death were a blur for Monica. After the initial shock of murdering her own husband and attending his funeral, there came the technicalities. The police immediately questioned her. What happened? How did it happen? Was Kip moving towards you? Did he have a knife? Was he threatening you? Why did Chandler shoot him? Was he angry? The questions went on and on... they were repeated and continued until Monica was weak and shaking.

And she had to deal with her family and friends and their questions. They were all surprised that Kip had been so enraged and jealous that he'd suspected Monica of having an affair - the idea, how preposterous! Monica felt indescribably ashamed as they all began to blame Kip's stupidity for his death, when Monica knew his suspicions had been right on target.

The news came only as a dull shock when Monica heard that Chandler had been arrested for the murder. Monica tried not the think that Chandler was sitting in a jail cell, cold and starving and being accosted by strange men because of a crime _she_ had committed. She could hardly even think about it. Some days she thought about coming clean, about telling the truth, but then she remembered what Chandler had said - _"Do you know how that would destroy Caitlin? Don't tell anyone..."_ He was right. 

His mother got him out on 1 million dollars bail, and the next day Monica received a telephone call from a man that she didn't know, telling her to meet at a small diner on the outskirts of Brooklyn. She was frightened at first, but she wanted to see Chandler more than she had wanted to do anything else in her life. She hurried there and walked in to find Chandler sitting at one of the cracked red booths in the deserted restaurant.

"Chandler," she whispered. He turned around and looked at her, a rueful smile on his face.

"Hey," he said. He stood up, and she hugged him tightly. 

"I'm sorry," she said, locking her arms around him. "I'm so, so sorry."

"It's okay," Chandler said, stroking her hair. 

"No," Monica said, pulling away. "No, no it's not. I shouldn't let you do this. _I_ killed him, not you - "

Chandler cupped her face in his hands. "Monica," he interrupted her, his hands warm on her cold cheeks. "Is Caitlin okay?"

"She doesn't really understand," Monica said. "I told him he's in heaven, but she - she only knows that he's gone."

"How would she feel if _both_ of you were gone?" Chandler asked. "How would anyone ever explain to her that Daddy was dead and Mommy was in jail? _How_?"

"I - I guess your right." Monica sighed and leaned into Chandler's chest, smelling his cologne and feeling warmer then she had in weeks. "I just - I can't believe that I _did_ this," she mumbled.

"It's all gonna be okay," Chandler said. "You didn't do anything wrong. He - he was crazy, he was going to kill us."

"I know, but how could I - _kill_ somebody?" Monica sobbed. "My own _husband?_ Caity's father?" The questions that had been building up inside of her spilled out, and she clutched Chandler tightly. 

"Mon, we can't stay long," Chandler whispered when her sobs had died down. "If anyone sees us - "

"Yeah," Monica agreed, pulling away and sniffling. "Listen, I want you to know that I'm going to be a witness."

"Excuse me?"

"A witness, at your trial. I'm going to testify. I'm going to tell them that he was coming towards you, and that he said he was going to kill us."

"Mon, if you go up there, they're going to ask you if we were having an affair. What are you going to say?"

"I'm going to say you were an old friend and that you'd stopped by to say hi, and then... um..."

"How did we end up upstairs? Sweetie, I appreciate you wanting to do this, but they'll grill you to death up there and there won't be anything we can do. And anyway, lying on the stand is perjury." 

"I don't care," Monica said with a shrug. "At least let me talk to your lawyer," she pleaded. "I'm an eyewitness! My _husband_ was killed. They're not going to think I'm lying - "

"Unless it comes out that we were having an affair," Chandler said. He stepped back and ran his hands through his hair. "Monica, listen. I don't - I don't know how many more times we're going to get to have together."

"Don't say that," Monica said. "You'll get off, don't say that - "

"I don't know that!" Chandler said. "And I've got to start planning for it, all right? I might go to jail for the rest of my life - "

"Chandler, please," Monica said, her eyes filling with tears again. "I - I..."

"Okay,"Chandler said, holding her close to him. "Okay. But I... I also want you to know that no matter what happens; I won't turn you in." 

Monica nodded into his chest. "I know."

"I want you to be _sure_ okay? I just want you to know that I would do anything for you." Chandler seemed set on assuring her that he would continue the charade. And Monica was glad. Although she trusted Chandler with her life, there had always been the fear that he would crack under pressure. 

"Come on." He led her outside and around to the side of the diner. "Shh, sweetie."

Monica kissed him quickly, feeling her pull towards him strong as ever. He wrapped his arms around her and they made love right there in the parking lot of the diner. Then he whispered a sweet, "Good-bye," into her ear, and kissed her one last time. 

And then Monica got into her car and drove back to her empty house.

That night, she awoke from a nightmare screaming. She thrashed around in her sheets, drenched in a cold sweat, tears on her face. She'd had the nightmare before... in it, she'd watched as Kip stabbed Chandler over and over. She had a gun in her hand, and she was shooting Kip 10, 20 times, but the bullets did nothing, and he kept ripping Chandler apart - and then he came at her, his arm outstretched, the bloody knife aimed for her chest. She screamed, but no sound came out of her mouth, only blood - and then she woke up.

Monica did not move for several minutes, only quivered in her bed, sobbing. Then she got out of bed, washed her face, and tiptoed into Caitlin's room.

Since Kip's death, Monica had seen very little of her daughter. Mr. and Mrs. Geller had decided that it wouldn't be good to leave Monica and Caitlin alone for long periods of time, and as a result, they, along with Ross, Rachel, Kip's family, and a few friends, were constantly taking Caitlin to their homes, or staying with Monica. Monica had the feeling that her parents thought she was a threat to herself and her daughter, after the horror of watching her husband murdered. Sometimes Monica was afraid they were right - although they didn't know the half of it - and this night was one of those times. 

Her daughter was lying peacefully in bed, her young face relaxed and her breathing deep. Monica knelt next to her, softly smoothing her hair. Suddenly, Caitlin opened her eyes and whispered, "Mommy?"

Monica jumped. "Oh, sweetie, I'm sorry I woke you up."

"S'ok," Caitlin said with a yawn. She stared up at her mother. "Mommy, can I have some milk?"

"Sure, babes, let's go downstairs." Monica helped her daughter out of bed and then picked her up. Caitlin leaned her head against Monica's shoulder as Monica carried her down the stairs to the kitchen.

They both squinted in the bright white light of the kitchen. Monica sat Caitlin on the kitchen counter and poured two glasses of milk. They sat in silence, drinking the milk, until Caitlin asked, "Is Daddy happy in heaven?"

"He's very happy," Monica answered immediately. "He's never been happier in his life. You know what's in heaven?"

"Ponies?"

Monica smiled. "Yeah, I think there's ponies. And playgrounds. And vanilla ice cream."

"With sprinkles?"

"With every topping you can imagine."

"Wow. Will I go there?"

"I'd kinda like to keep you here with me for now, but - yes, someday you'll go to heaven."

"And I'll be with Daddy?"

"Yes. But not until your very, very old."

"Like Grandma?"

Monica snorted. "Older than Grandma."

"That's old."

"Oh yeah."

They drank their milk some more.

"Does Daddy _miss_ me?" Caitlin asked in a small voice.

"He misses you so much that it hurts. He wishes he was down here playing with you and kissing you and watching you get big. He wishes he didn't have to leave, even to go to heaven - that's how much he misses you."

"I miss him too."

"So do I," Monica said, wrapping her arms around Caitlin. It didn't matter right then that the two were seeing the faces of different men.


	8. The Trial

A/N: My friend Lourdes and I had so much fun yesterday. We were cutting things out of magazines for our science project, and we both love Friends so every time we saw a picture of one or more of them we would be like "Look!" Then we finished our project and I found Jen and Brad on four, count 'em, FOUR, separate magazine covers, and she found all six of them in one magazine, and she was like, "Let's cut out all the pictures we can get and put them in a scrapbook! It'll be our _Friends_ scrapbook!" 

So we did. We only got through, like, five magazines, but we had sooo many pictures! I know I sound really lame right now, but we just had fun cutting them out. 

And Bec: I'm sorry I was so mean! But it was fun, was it not? And the words *clears throat and prepares to sing* "Why'd ya shoot him? I was leavin. Was he angry? Like a MADMAN!" Hehehe. Love you Bec! And Boris... I have the piranhas and the 26-year-old gunpowder ready, all you need to do is to get Becca in the middle of New Orleans on a Friday afternoon and we'll be all set! Everybody else, THANKS FOR REVIEWING! 

Oh, and I also want to say that as some of you may know, I am NOT a fully-qualified lawyer and therefore some of this trial may be sorta wrong. However, I have watched many episodes of _Law and Order _and _The Practice_ and I've done the best i can :)

Disclaimer: I own Caitlin and this trial and nothing else... not even the lawyer :) However, I *do* own a very adorable monkey who likes to chase a banana. 

CHAPTER EIGHT - The Trial

_Six months later_

Chandler's trial began. Monica chose not to attend, but she called Nora Bing every night, and from what the lawyers were telling her, it was going neither well nor terrible. The prosecution had a good case, it seemed, but Chandler's lawyer still had not begun. They had entered a plead of not guilty on the grounds that Chandler had been acting in self-defense. 

Halfway through the trial, Chandler's lawyer, Mr. Flynn, called Monica and asked if she would be a witness for him. Knowing that her family would be surprised, probably even angry, she agreed to it. She was aware that her testimony could change the outcome of Chandler's trial, and Monica would do everything she could to save Chandler. After several interviews with the lawyers, the day came when she would testify.

Monica woke up that morning feeling nervous and ill. Ross, accepting the fact that Monica didn't want an innocent man convicted of her husband's murder, drove her to the courthouse while Rachel watched Caitlin. 

They sat outside the door on a small, hard bench. Ross clutched Monica's clammy hand, squeezing it occasionally. Fianlly, after an agonizingly long wait, a guard opened the door.

"Mrs. Jones?" he said. Swallowing hard, Monica stood up, and Ross followed her.

"I call Mrs. Monica Jones to the stand," Chandler's lawyer said as Monica and Ross walked into the courthouse. A murmur filled the room as Monica walked slowly to the witness box. She was afraid she might pass out from sheer nervousness. She knew what she was about to do. She knew she was about to commit her second felony in the past six months.

Monica had not seen Chandler since the night at the diner, and her stomach flip-flopped - but not from agitation - as she passed him. Their eyes met expressionlessly for only a few seconds before Monica was forced to look away. Chandler did not look like a man who belonged on trial for murder. He did not look like a man who had spent the last two months in jail, who could be spending the rest of his life in jail. And only Monica knew why that was. Monica choked down grief as she stepped up to the stand. 

A man with a Bible stepped up to her, and Monica stared at him as if in a dream as he spoke the words she had heard only on television. "Do you swear to tell the whole truth, nothing but the truth, so help you God?"

"I do," Monica said, nausea passing over her as she lied for the first time that day.

"Be seated." Monica sat down in the chair, her legs twitching.

"Mrs. Jones, I would first like to say that I am verry sorry for your loss," Mr. Flynn said.

"Thank you," Monica said, her voice echoing eerily throughout the silent courtroom.

"How long were you married to Kip Jones?" 

"Almost five years," Monica replied.

"And you have a daughter?"

"Yes, Caitlin. She's four."

"And how was your relationship with the deceased? Was he loving towards you? Kind, gentle, appreciative?"

"He was usually quite loving and kind - at first, anyway. Things were different after Caitlin was born, but I assume that it always is."

"Indeed. Mrs. Jones, was Kip a jealous man?"

"Sometimes. He didn't like other men looking at me or smiling at me."

"You're quite a beautiful woman - I'm sure this must have happened a lot?"

"When we were younger, I suppose. I remember once, early in our relationship, I had dinner with a family friend - another man, whom I've known since I was a child - and stayed out rather late. Kip was furious when I told him about it, and demanded that I never go out with another man. He threatened to break up with me, so I obliged."

"I see. Mrs. Jones, if it is not too difficult, would you please tell the jury what happened the night your husband died?"

"Chandler - Mr. Bing - came to my house." Monica glanced at Chandler, who was staring at his hands, and then looked back to Mr. Flynn. "We were close friends is college, and I recently ran into him, at which point I invited him to dinner. However, he came on the wrong night - Kip was going on a business trip and Caitlin was with my parents." She had prepared this lie in advance - she knew that the jury could not know she and Chandler had been having an affair. "However, he came inside for a while and we chatted. At one point I took him upstairs to show him some old pictures and things from college. We had just gone upstairs when I heard someone following us. Thinking it was a burglar, I opened Kip's dresser drawer, where he kept a gun." She paused.

"And then what happened?"

"I didn't take the gun, because Kip burst into the room. I expressed my relief that it was only him - but then he held up a large steak knife. He began to say... to say..." Monica trailed off, her throat closing up. "To say he was going to kill us."

"Objection! Heresay," the District Attorney cried.

"Sustained," Judge Wilkes ruled, and looked down kindly at Monica. "Please continue, Mrs. Jones."

"I was confused at first, but then he started screaming, saying that he'd always known I was cheating on him." Monica closed her eyes, visions of Kip shouting and holding up the knife flashing through her mind. "I tried to explain that Chandler was just an old friend, that we'd been looking at pictures - I even held up the pictures to show him - but he kept walking toward us, saying that he was going to kill us. He said he would dump Chandler's body and go on his business trip, and leave my parents to find me dead. He - he was crazy. I pleaded with him to put the knife down, I told him that he had made a mistake, that I wasn't cheating on him, but he didn't care. He kept coming closer - " Monica shuddered involuntarily. "And then Chandler leapt at him. He grabbed the arm holding the knife and tried to push it away, but Kip was too strong. He cut Chandler's arm and pushed him down next to me, then started toward me. I was screaming, and Kip - he had this look in his eye, and I knew he wasn't bluffing. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Chandler searching for a weapon, something to hit him with to make him stop, but there was nothing. He reached into Kip's dresser drawer and pulling out the gun. Just as Kip lunged at us, he shot him." 

Monica stopped, her heart beating rapidly in his chest.

"And then what happened?"

"I don't remember much else," Monica said truthfully. "I was so scared. All I know is that - if Chandler hadn't shot Kip right then, he would have killed me. He would have killed us both."

"Thank you, Mrs. Jones. I have no more questions," Mr. Flynn said, sitting down at his desk. The district attorney stood up.

"Mrs. Jones, do you knbow what perjury is?"

"Yes," Monica croaked.

"And do you know that in the state of New York, perjury is a crime punishable by up to ten years in prison?"

"Yes," Monica said, trying to keep her voice steady.

"All right. Then I can move on with my questioning. Mrs. Jones, were you having an affair with Mr. Bing?"

"No," Monica said firmly. "I was not."

"Then why would you allow the defendant to follow you into the bedroom you shared with your husband? Were you not even the slightest bit afraid that he would attempt to make a sexual advance on you?"

"No," Monica repeated. "Chandler would never do that."

"So you had testified that when your husband entered your bedroom and found you and the defendant there, he brandished a knife."

"Yes."

"Could it be possible that Kip believed you, his wife, were being burglarized, assaulted, or even killed?"

"I don't think so. Aside from the light in the hall and the bedroom, there would be no reason to even think anyone was home. We weren't talking loudly.''

"I see. Mrs. Jones, when the deceased moved toward you with the night, what exactly did you say?"

"I told him that he had made a mistake - that he was crazy to think I would cheat on him. I begged him to think of Caitlin and what her life would be like if he killed me."

"But your husband ignored you and continued to advance on you?"

"Yes."

"Did he at all pause or stop to think?"

"Perhaps - for a second."

"Do you believe, Mrs. Jones, that your husband would in fact have killed you and the defendant that night?"

"Yes. He was crazy." Monica felt her eyes filling with tears but fought them back. 

"Do you _really_ think he was crazy enough that he _definitely_ would have murdered his wife?"

"I guess - I guess there was a chance that he wouldn't have," Monica said without thinking. She watched as the prosecuter's eyebrows shot up and heard a murmur run through the crowd in the courtroom.

"But your husband did _not_ kill you that night - because somebody killed him first. Withdrawn," the district attorney said. Chandler's attorney opened his mouth angrily, but had nothing to say.

The district attorney paused for a moment, walking over to the jury box, and then said, "Mrs. Jones, why are you here today?"

"Excuse me?" Monica said, narrowing her eyes.

"Let me rephrase that," the D.A. said. "Why are you on the stand defending the man who killed your husband? Was it not _you_ who watched as the man you loved bled to death on your bedroom floor? Is it not _your_ daughter who will spend the rest of her life fatherless?"

"I - I don't want to see an innocent man go to jail," Monica stammered. 

"Or perhaps you are protecting someone _more_ important to you?" the prosecutor said.

"I don't know what you mean," Monica said, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Maybe, Mrs. Jones, maybe you are testifying in behalf of your _lover_?"

"No!" 

"Objection, relevance!" Mr. Flynn said.

"Overruled," the judge said. "Continue."

"Or possibly, Kip Jones's murder was a _plot_, disguised as self-defense by you and Chandler Bing, a simple way to get your husband out of the way!"

"_No!_" Monica cried again, at the same time that Mr. Flynn shouted, "Objection! It is preposterous and inappropriate that the prosecution would accuse the witness of planning to kill her husband. Mrs. Jones is not on trial here!"

"That is true, Mr. Flynn, but this is a murder trial, and if you have been to law school, which we all have, you will know that part of a murder conviction is premeditation. If Mrs. Jones's involvement has not been established, the district attorney can choose to pursue this. However, as the witness has already answered the question, I will ask the prosectution to move on."

"I have no mroe questions," the D.A. said, looking smug. 

"Counsel, rebuttal?" the judge asked Mr. Flynn. Looking slightly defeated, the lawyer shook his head and rubbed his temples. "Mrs. Jones, you may step down." On shaking legs, Monica left the witness box. She stared into Chandler's eyes again as she passed, wondering how badly she had messed up - wondering if she had just sent an innocent man to prison.

Chandler testified for his own defense two days later. Monica did not watch. She sat at home, knowing that Chandler was up there lying for her, still shaken by her own falsifications on the stand. She knew that if anyone ever found out that _she_ had actually killed Kip, not only would she go to jail for murder, Chandler would go to jail for perjury. 

And then, just days after she had taken the stand, Monica's was informed that the trial had finished and the jury was deliberating. All day and night, Monica went through the motions she had been going through for the past two and a half months. She woke up in the morning, took Caitlin to school - she brought her daughter home and fed her and talked to her. That night, she lay awake in bed, playing over in her mind the few short months she had spent with Cahndler. He was more than just a lover to her - he was a friend. She trusted him more than she had ever trusted Kip. He had risked his life for her not once, but twice. Monica imagined, just as she had imagined every other night, of being with Chandler for the rest of her life, of leaving Kip and the horror of his murder behind them. 

She knew in her mind that these were just idle fantasies; yet in her heart, they were the hopes that kept her holding on to sanity, the one wild wish that kept her alive.

Monica had just arrived home from dropping Caitlin at preschool the next morning when the phone rang. She stared at it, nonplussed, knowing what the shrill, ominous sound meant. She picked it up and heard herself say, "Hello?"

"It's me," Nora Bing said in a shaky voice. "They have a verdict."

Monica sat in the buzzing courtroom, alive with the hum of reporters and TV cameramen. However, her surroundings looked more dreamlike then real, blurred and contorted. Her stomach seemed full of butterflies, squirming to get out, and she did not speak; she was afraid of what she might say if she did. She was dimly aware off Ross's presence on her left, and of her parent's on her right. Nora Bing, sitting two rows ahead directly behind Chandler, turned and gave her a weak smile, which Monica was unable to return.

The din in the room grew louder as a door in the left wall opened, and a guard walked out of it, followed by Chandler and his lawyer. Chandler looked the same as Monica felt - sick wth apprehension and terrified beyond words. He did not see Monica as he sat down, and she stared at him.

A door to the right opened now, and nine men and women - the jurors - filed in, sitting quietly on the chairs in the jury box. As they settled themselves, the bailiff spoke.

"All rise for the honorable Judge Martin Wilkes." Monica felt Ross grab her arm and pull her into a standing position along with the rest of the people. The courtroom silenced as the judge entered.

"Be seated," the bailiff said. He walked over to one of the jurors, who handed him a slip of white paper. The bailiff took the paper over to Judge Wilkes, who read it quickly. His face remained blank as he said, "Will the defendant please rise."

Chandler and his lawyer stood up, the scraping of their chairs deafening in the hushed room. "Madam foreperson, have you reached a unanimous verdict?"

A woman seated in the front of the jury box stood up. "We have, you Honor." Monica's heart was beating uncomfortably fast; she could not remember ever feeling so panicky in her entire life. 

"And what say you?" 

A/N: Review please! I'll try to get the next part up really really soon, okay? And that's not Alie. ;)

*Yen*


	9. The Verdict

A/N: I'm not gonna bore yall with my A/N... just to say that this is the final chapter and I hope you like it. Oh, and I had a conniption when Monica had the guy signing her bra. And a certain person is a boring, immature, manipulative, jealous, pathetic bitch. *smiles sweetly* I love the rest of you! 

Disclaimer: I actually own a lot of the people in this... I also own a fairly hysterical conversation with the aforementioned bitch :) Oh, and for anyone who's wondering, the bitch is NOT Becca. I LOVE BECCA! Hahahahahhaha! 

CHAPTER Nine - The Verdict

"We, the people of the jury, find the defendant, Chandler Bing, on the count of Murder in the first degree - " the woman looked up at the packed courtroom; there was a pregnant pause, and Monica felt the strange desire to scream.

"Not guilty."

Monica's heart stopped as a kind of gasp rippled over the court. "On the count of Manslaughter in the first degree," the forewoman continued, "We find the defendant, not guilty."

_Not guilty._ Chandler had been found innocent on all counts. She sagged limply against Ross's shoulder as the noise in the room increased.

"The jury is dismissed with the thanks of the court," Judge Wilkes said. "Mr. Bing, you are free to go." 

Chandler stood up, smiling, and shook the hand of his attorney. Nora grabbed him and hugged him tightly before the bailiff opened the door and he walked out. 

"Monica," Monica's father said. "Monica, are you all right?"

"Yes," Monica breathed, watching Chandler leave through a side door. She got to her feet, feeling as if a boulder had been lifted off of her shoulders. Surrounded by her family, she left the courtroom. AS they stepped into the hazy sunlight, reporters bombarded them.

"Mrs. Jones, how do you feel about the jury's verdict?" one woman asked, thrusting a microphone into her face. Monica blinked as several cameras flashed. She hadn't realized that the case had gained this much publicity - she had dealt with a few reporters from time to time, but nothing like this.

"Mrs. Jones, what do you plan to - "

"Will you comment on the - "

Ross and Mr. Geller grabbed Monica and, shielding her from the reporters, hurried through the crowd to a waiting cab. They all got in and as the cab sped away from the courthouse, Monica had only one thought.

_It's over._

Monica sat on a bench at the edge of the park, watching Caitlin scramble up a ladder and shoot down a slide. Shielding her eyes from the midday sun, she sighed almost contentedly. She was finally a normal person - just a mother, watching her daughter play at a playground. She was not the widow of a man who had been murdered suspiciously; she was not at the center of a murder trial. She was not a murderer.

Four weeks had passed since Chandler had been declared innocent. Over those weeks, Monica had worked tirelessly at bringing some of the normalcy back to her and Caitlin's life. They would have to move on, and now, with the trial over, they could. Monica had also begun to come to grips with the fact that although she had killed Kip, she was not a murderer. She had not shot him in cold blood. She had been defending her life, and she was entirely justified. Although she knew her last words to Kip - "_I'll see you in hell_" - would haunt her forever, she also knew that if she was ever going to stay sensible, she would have to leave Kip's murder behind her. It had only been a few months, and although Monica knew that it would take much longer for things to be the same - that they would _never_ truly be the same - she had to try. For Caitlin's sake. 

"Hey."

Monica jumped and whipped around to the source of the soft voice. A shadow was blocking the sunlight now, and she gazed straight up into the electric blue eyes of someone she had seen in her dreams every single night. 

"Chandler," she choked out. Her breath caught in her throat as he half-smiled at her. She could see nervousness in his eyes, and lines that had not been there before creased his forehead.

"Can I sit here?" he asked in an undertone.

"Of - of course." Chandler sat down, and Monica, unsure of what to say or do, watched Caitlin sit on a swing, her toes drawing paths on the sand.

"How's she doing?" Chandler asked, who was also watching Caitlin.

"Okay," Monica said. "She understands more than people think she does. I - I can see it in her eyes... but she'll be all right." 

"What about you?"

"I'm..." Monica wanted to say "fine," but she found her gaze drawn to Chandler. "I'm dealing with it. Caitlin needs me, so I deal with it."

"That's good."

"Thank you," Monica blurted out suddenly. Chandler raised his eyebrows. "Thank you, for saving my life, and for - for doing all of this for me."

"It's okay," Chandler said firmly.

"No, no, it's not. It's not okay, it will never be okay," Monica rushed. She wasn't sure she would ever get a chance to say everything she wanted to say, and so it all came out. "How many people would take the blame for a murderer? How many people would sit in jail for months, would lose their job and their friends and their _life_, everything they've ever worked for, just for one person?"

"Two," Chandler said, nodding towards Caitlin. 

"Nobody would do that, Chandler. I don't know whether you're crazy or stupid or amazingly chivalrous, but I do know one thing." She took a deep breath and looked longingly at Chandler, who gazed back at her. "I love you."

Chandler seemed at a loss for words. He stared at Monica, and then suddenly he opened his mouth - he was looking _behind_ her.

"Mommy?" a small voice said. Monica turned around to see Caitlin standing there, a lost, confused look on her face. 

"Oh - Oh, sweetie, hi," Monica stuttered. Caitlin walked closer to her mother and buried her face in Monica's shoulder.

"Who's that man?" she whispered.

"Um, this is Mommy's friend, Chandler," Monica said. 

"Hi, Caitlin," Chandler said gently. 

"Hi, Chandler," Caitlin said shyly, her head still buried in Monica's shoulder. She looked up and giggled. "That's a funny name."

"Well, my last name's even funnier," Chandler said, grinning.

"What is it?" Caitlin asked in interest. 

"Bing."

"_Bing?" _Caitlin squealed. "You're silly, Chandler."

"Thank you," Chandler said. He looked over Caitlin's head and smiled at Monica. A few minutes later, Caitlin went back to her swing.

"She's so adorable," Chandler said, shaking his head. "_Definitely_ your daughter."

"I don't know whether that's a compliment or an insult," Monica said with pretend indignation.

"Oh, it's a compliment," Chandler said. "Listen, I can't stay long. Can I come over to your house tonight?"

"Sure," Monica said quickly, eager to see more of Chandler. "Come around nine, after I get Caity down." 

"Okay, great," Chandler said. He reached over and grabbed Monica's hand, almost hesitantly. Monica glanced at their intertwined hands, and then up at him. "I'm sorry," he muttered, pulling his hand away. "Was that not - okay? I'm sorry, I'm - "

"No," Monica said, shivering at his touch, the touch she hadn't felt in so long. "I like it."

Monica hurried to put her daughter to sleep that night. Then she sat on the couch, nervously flipping through the channels, wondering what would happen when Chandler came over. It had been almost eight months since Kip's murder - eight months since she had Chandler had made love. It seemed like a lifetime ago, and yet she could still taste him on her lips; still feel herself in his arms.

A knock reverberated through the large, empty house. Monica jumped, and then stood up, walking to the door. She peered out of the peephole and saw Chandler standing on the stoop. She opened the door.

"Hi," she said.

Chandler smiled at her, that same reluctant, contrite half-smile he'd given her earlier that day. "Hey," he replied. 

"Come on in," she whispered, opening the door for him. Chandler walked inside, and Monica led him to the living room, where they both stood nervously.

"Do you want to sit down?" Monica asked hesitantly.

"Sure." Chandler sat down on the couch, and Monica sat down too. Seconds later, however, Chandler popped back up. "Y'know, I think I'll stand." He hopped from one foot to the other. Monica stared up at him. His eyes, formerly alight with sarcasm and delight, were dull inside; they had a haunted look to them, as though he had seen things no one should see. Monica didn't realize she was crying until she felt the tears, hot and stinging, running down her face.

"Oh, Mon," Chandler said. "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing," Monica said, wiping fruitlessly at her eyes. "It's just - I just - " she let out a dry sob and curled into a ball. All the emotions she'd been feeling since Kip's death - horror, regret, guilt, and a gaping sadness - combined with a rush of feelings for Chandler and spilled down her face in anxious tears. 

Monica was surprised as she felt arms wrapping around her body, holding her close, rocking her back and forth. Chandler murmured into her ear, hushing her, holding her, until her gasps quieted and she dried her eyes.

"I'm sorry," Monica said, slightly embarrassed.

"Don't be sorry," Chandler said. "There's nothing to be sorry about." He continued to hold her tightly. She looked up at him, her heart practically bursting with affection as she saw the compassion, the adoration, in his eyes, those eyes so deadened by terror. Monica reached up and traced the line of his chiseled chin with her fingertip. Neither of them breathed or moved as she leaned up and kissed him softly on the lips.

"You are the most amazing man I have ever known," she whispered breathily. Chills of longing shot up and down her spine. "You keep coming back to me, after all you've been through, after all I've put you through - you still love me."

"It doesn't matter what you've put me through," Chandler said, pushing a few strands of hair out of her eyes. "You're all that keeps me alive." He leaned down and kissed her, harder this time, and longer. Monica closed her eyes and melted into his embrace, and when they finally parted to catch breath, she leaned against his chest. They sat there in comfortable silence for several minutes. Monica knew that Chandler felt just as she did - happy to be alive. Happy to be here, together.

Monica was struck with such sudden clarity that her breath caught in her chest. What Chandler had said - _"You're all the keeps me alive" - _rung true in her heart. 

For the next few months, Monica and Chandler began seeing each other again - but this time it wasn't hurried dates at secluded coffee bars or quickies in Chandler's office. They went to movies and restaurants; they saw plays and walked around the city hand-in-hand like a couple of love-struck teens. They even had less glamorous dates, many of which included ordering pizza and sitting around trying to teach Caitlin to play Monopoly. Caitlin grew to trust Chandler quickly, and Chandler immediately fell in love with the little girl. 

Monica and Chandler's relationship, once based more on the sex than the romance, switched - sex became simply an enjoyable activity rather than the main event. Monica felt herself falling deeper and deeper in love with Chandler. Still, Monica felt slightly guilty - what if her family found out she was dating the man who they believed killed Kip? Monica could barely even think about what her family would say if they found out the truth... the truth about everything. She could barely even believe it herself. But she couldn't dwell on it too much - she simply couldn't. 

One night, they were watching television in the living room after a date. Monica was leaning against Chandler's chest, and he was running his hands through her hair slowly. Monica's face contorted in concentration as she remembered something - and then excitement as a possibility arose.

"Does your offer still stand?" she asked him without prelude.

"What?"

"To run away together. To take Caitlin and go, go far away and live together forever?" Monica stared earnestly up at him. Chandler's mouth opened slightly in shock.

"Mon - what are you saying?"

"Kip isn't holding me back anymore - Caitlin's already lost her father. I can't live in this house anymore. I don't want to deal with my family, my friends, with _New York_. Lets leave. Lets go far away." 

"Would you really want to?"

"Yes!" Monica said excitedly. Chandler still looked slightly hesitant. "Listen - I know we were only together for eight or nine months, and it's been so long - much too long - but I feel like this is _supposed_ to happen. I knew from that first night that _you_ were who I was supposed to be with, not Kip. Please, Chandler. We can go somewhere where they don't know us. We can both get jobs - we can raise Caitlin together."

Chandler's eyes were wide with the proverbial "dear-in-headlights" expression. Monica sat anxiously, waiting for his answer. This, suddenly, was the beginning and end of her life. The words out of Chandler's mouth were all that mattered.

"Okay."

She stared at him. "What?"

"Okay," he repeated dazedly. 

"Really?" Monica asked.

"Yes," he said. "I have nothing here either, and I - I love you," he whispered. "I love you and Caitlin, and I want to be with you forever. I - I was actually wondering when it would be an appropriate time to ask you myself." He grinned. "So if you're ready - let's roll." 

_ONE WEEK LATER_

"Mom-mmyyyy," Caitlin whined, squeezing Monica's hand tightly. "Mommy, when are we gonna get on the plane?"

"In a minute, honey, just a minute," Monica reassured her. She looked over the heads of the other travelers, searching, waiting. 

"Mommy, when am I gonna get my clothes and my stuffies and my furniture back?" Caitlin wondered. 

"When we get to the new house," Monica said distractedly.

"Where's the new house?"

"In Chicago."

"Where's Chicago?"

"Illinois."

"Where's Illinois?"

"Listen, sweetie, Mommy's looking for someone right now, so can we talk in a minute?"

"Okay," Caitlin said, looking at the floor. "Mommy?"

"Yes, sweetie?"

"Is Illinois in New York?"

Monica sighed. "Caitlin - "

"Monica!"

_Thank God,_ Monica mumbled. "Over here!" she said, standing on her toes and waving her arm. 

Chandler fought his way through the crowd, pulling a suitcase. "Hey," he said when he got to her.

"Hey," she said back. They stared at each other, still in disbelief of what they were doing.

"You ready to go?" Chandler asked, motioning towards the plane.

Monica nodded. 

"Okay." 

Chandler, Monica, and the newly silent Caitlin gave their tickets to the attendant and stepped onto the plane. About ten minutes after they were seated, the plane rolled away from the gate.

Caitlin was looking out the window. "Bye, old house. Bye, old school. Bye, New York."

Chandler took Monica's hand, and they smiled at each other. This was it.

"Bye, Daddy," Caitlin said softly. 

Chandler glanced at Monica to see her lip trembling. Caitlin was staring out of the window at the retreating airport. Monica didn't know what to say until Caitlin turned around and smiled at them.

"I bet Daddy's happy 'cause we're happy, Mommy," Caitlin said. "I bet Daddy would like Chandler."

Monica smiled at the irony of her daughter's innocent statement. 

"I'm sure he is happy, sweetheart," Monica said. "Just like us."

THE END

A/N: Well I (finally) ended it. Thanks for reading and reviewing - don't forget to review this chapter! Or else I'll have to bring Chandler's evil twin Chuck back and have him infect them all with an outrageously deadly rainforest virus that will kill them before you can say "The hills are alive with the sound..... OF music." :) 

Luv ya all (cept of course that one person)! 

*Yen*


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